Time
by You'llRememberMe
Summary: "What little time we have left is never quite enough." Some team members' thoughts during the episode "Lauren". Takes place during the hospital scene and onwards.
1. Hotch

**_A/N: I couldn't resist writing something post-"Lauren". This story will have a chapter for every character. Not sure if I'll do one for Seaver though, but I probably will. Though it'll be short, I'm sure._**

**_I know I should update my other CM story, but I'm still on the fence about that one._**

**_Originally I meant for this to take place during the funeral, since I felt that scene was much too short, but I got caught up in the moment :)_**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did, I'd force Paget Brewster to remain on the show. She's my favorite character :D**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Hotch**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"_The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is the duty of the living to do so for them."_

_~Lois McMaster Bujold_

The day was a blur.

From the moment JJ walked into the visitor's center of the hospital, Hotch knew. He knew nothing would ever be the same again. Then the words slipped from between her lips.

"She never made it off the table."

Those awful words. Such horrible words coming from such a pretty woman. That was when everything started to blend together for him. He was so consumed with those words that the most reaction he could manage aside from his usual brooding look was a flinch. There was nothing else. Nothing left inside of him. They'd come so far in those few short days. So close, yet so far from what they'd attempted to save.

They say when a friend dies that a part of you dies with them. Hotch could attest to that. Of course, he still felt that she was with them. Like nothing had happened. Like Morgan had never found her bleeding on the concrete floor. Like she hadn't been carted into an ambulance. Like they weren't even there at the hospital, waiting to hear what they so desperately wanted to hear.

Sadly, it wasn't like that. Yet at the same time, it was all the same. Only, what they'd wanted to hear was news of her recovery. They wanted to know that she was still with them. They needed assurance that she would be okay.

Disappointment is bitter.

Hotch walked away after that. He couldn't bear to be there, smothered by _her _undeniable presence though she wasn't really there at all. She never would be. Gone forever, that was her. Unreachable.

As Hotch stood apart from his team, only a short distance away yet it felt like an eternity, he decided it was better this way. She was better off dead than hunted mercilessly by Doyle. Still, he couldn't help the selfish part of him that wished she were here. With them. Where she _belongs. _

Then JJ disentangled herself from Reid and pushed open the doors to join him. Her red-rimmed eyes met his distant brown gaze. The former media liaison had never been one to shy away from anything. She was tough as nails, and had a silver tongue to boot. There was a strange combination of sadness, pity, loss and nostalgia in her blue eyes. It threw him off, because something was missing from that odd brew of emotions. Something he couldn't quite place.

"Hotch." She addressed him coolly.

Then it hit him.

Grief.

She showed no signs of grieving. Yet the two women had been close, being the only females on a team can do that. It occurred to him that he'd been somewhat close to her as well, but he didn't show any signs of grief either. Still, something about the absence of it put him off.

"JJ." He replied just as calmly.

The blonde paused, sudden doubt painted her features, and the look on her face became contemplative. She seemed to decide something because her face showed no lingering traces of the previous doubt. Her next words shocked him to the bone, "She's alive."

Time came to a complete stop, or so it seemed to Hotch. For a minute he was at a loss for words as his mind struggled to come to terms with this new information. Then he realized something: there were no words for this situation. It was completely unprecedented in his experience. He'd never had to deal with something like this before. Then he felt a burst of euphoria as the words finally sunk in.

Emily Prentiss was _alive._

Just as soon as the emotion had come, it was banished to the recesses of his mind again. The profiler in him had taken control. "What do we do now? Doyle will find out sooner or later, and then Prentiss will really be dead."

JJ's lips curved up slightly, but there was no humor behind the expression. "Don't you see? We're faking her death. Just like she did when she pretended to be Lauren Reynolds. Why else would I say... Why else would I purposely cause _that?" _She swept her hand out, gesturing towards the team. Hotch cringed imperceptibly; he couldn't stand to see them like that. It was awful.

"I understand," Hotch said curtly. This needed to be done as soon as possible. Once his team recovered a bit, they'd wonder where he was. And when they found himself and JJ secluded from everyone else they'd get suspicious, then they'd notice that he was no longer feeling the effects of their "loss".

"We're all set then," JJ seemed just as withdrawn as he did. Both of them knew too much for their own good. They also knew that sooner or later, the shit would really hit the fan and this whole scheme would blow up in their faces.

Hotch only nodded in response. JJ seemed to understand that Hotch would ask anything else. He knew that the less informed he was, the better it would be for Emily. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that she was still alive... and that he'd have to hide it from his team.

That made him glance at them. He frowned when he noticed that Seaver had her head in her hands; he couldn't tell if she was more or less affected than he'd expected.

His heart sank a little when he saw Reid standing there, looking forlornly at the doors. As if Prentiss would just come waltzing through them, or, more realistically, be wheeled in to see them. The young genius that knew everything knew nothing about handling loss. Hotch was sure that reality would hit him full-force soon enough.

His shoulders slumped forward when he saw Rossi, his own shoulders shaking slightly, fighting tears. The older profiler was so clearly torn up. Hotch supposed Rossi had lost agents before, but he also knew that back in his day no one in the BAU had been close. Rossi definitely understood the situation, and at the same time he didn't. After this, it would be incredibly hard to keep anything from him. He'd be on his toes now, never to be caught off-guard again, and surely he'd see right through Hotch's lies?

His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides when he saw Garcia openly sobbing. She held Derek's hand as he looked heavenwards, surely praying to anybody for it not to be true. The two gripped each other so tightly that Hotch thought they'd hurt one another, but then a thought occurred to him: physical pain would surely be preferable to the hell they're in now, wouldn't it?

He locked eyes with JJ again, saw everything he was feeling mirrored in her eyes. Would he be able to keep this terrible secret? He knew it was all for Prentiss's safety, but already he felt tempted to barge in there and tell them all the truth. He just wanted everyone to stop hurting. He wanted _himself _to stop hurting.

Just then Hotch made himself a promise. He vowed to bring Ian Doyle to justice, though Prentiss wasn't technically dead. But for all intents and purposes, she was. And the dead can't call out for justice. The ones left behind were meant to do that for them. Hotch steeled himself for the inevitable turmoil the oncoming months would bring.

Then he wondered: how many times could Prentiss fabricate her own death and get away with it? Would it even work this time?

Time would tell.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**_So tell me what you thought, maybe some favorite lines or something. Any review is a good review!_**

**_And by the way, I had a reviewer that reviewed anonymously as "Olivia". They told me to message them back, but since "Olivia" was signed anonymously, I can't. Olivia, if you're reading this and if you have an account please let me know! BTW, your info totally helped!_**


	2. Reid

_**A/N: Hey, guys! I got such a good response with the last chapter that I couldn't resist posting the next! This one is longer, but I'm not sure how well it was written. I like to think I did justice by the character, but that's up to you to decide, I guess...**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds, but I'd love to talk some sense into the person that does!**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Reid**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"_Too late we learn, to hold a friend_

_Unjudged, accepted, trusted to the end."_

_~John Boyle O'Reilly_

He remembered waiting.

Endless waiting.

And while they waited, Spencer Reid was tormented by the cruel imaginings of his mind. Each time he blinked he saw her. Saw her lying cold and bleeding on the ground, a wooden stake protruding from her abdomen. Then, the next time he blinked, he saw her dead on an operating table. Little did he know exactly how real those imaginings would become in the next few minutes.

He saw JJ walk in. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she paused before she spoke. Reid's throat constricted painfully, he could barely breath. Subconsciously, he knew what she would say. It seemed Garcia did too.

"No," the tech analyst said softly, her voice already thick with tears.

JJ looked them all over and without further hesitation said, "She never made it off the table."

Reid's eyes filled with tears, but before he would let them out he stood abruptly. He quickly crossed the floor, passing his grieving colleagues, and attempted to exit the visitor's lounge. He needed to see her. Needed to know if it was really true. He needed a sense of _closure. _He was only feet away before a pale, manicured hand stopped him.

"Spence," JJ said gently.

He didn't even look up at her, save for a single glance, "I never go to say goodbye."

Then he was enveloped in JJ's arms. That was when he started crying. A few salty tears slid down his face and landed on JJ. She didn't notice, she only rubbed his back comfortingly with her hands. He lay his chin on her shoulder, though he was taller than she was. He breathed in her familiar scent.

He thought about how much he missed her. JJ, so kind and motherly. She was the only one on the team who ever called him "Spence". When she left it was like a big hole had been punched in the delicate fabric of his life. At the time he'd wondered how he, and everyone else for that matter, would get on without her. Somehow they'd managed. Now that she was here though, it was like she'd never left.

Now he wondered how he, all of the team really, would get on without yet another member of their "family".

Emily Prentiss had arrived at the BAU at a time when they were still getting over Elle Greenaway's sudden departure. He hadn't really liked her at first. Had judged wether or not her profiling skills were really fit for the BAU. Then, somehow, he'd come to appreciate those skills he'd just previously doubted. When she was the first to confront him about his erratic behavior, the cause of which had been the drugs, he'd realized something. Of course, that revelation hadn't had much of an impact at the time. He'd simply been annoyed with her.

Later though, when he'd cleaned himself up a bit, he'd realized that she was concerned. For him. For Reid, that was when she'd really started to become a friend. He still hadn't fully put his trust in her, but soon enough she'd proved her loyalty to the team. Then she'd become family. A true, fully-fledged member of the BAU, and their little family.

Until now, he hadn't realized how much he took her for granted. Her laugh, her smile, even the way she took down criminals was unique. She herself was irreplaceable to him... and now she was gone. For good.

This wasn't some silly resignation to prove her loyalty to the team. This was _death. _No computer-hacking skills could've stalled it. No _one _could've stalled it. Though they'd all tried like hell.

By now JJ had gone. Reid had seen her leave to talk to Hotch in another room, but at the same time he hadn't. He stood there, staring at the doors, and remained there. Now that he'd thought about it, did he really _want _to see her body? Morgan had told them what state she was in when he found her. He'd said it all in such graphic detail, too, it had been like he was still shocked by it himself.

Still, there was a part of him that longed to see her one last time. He couldn't bear the thought of her sitting alone in a cold operating room. The image made him think though, and he wondered if she'd been scared when she died. Did everything just go black? Or were there moments of awareness? Had she wondered where they were? Why they weren't there with her? To be truthful, he wondered why they hadn't been there as well.

And _that _made him think some more: Was she... dead on arrival? Could the doctors have delayed her death by even minutes? Or was it sudden?

Then there was the biggest question of all: if they'd gotten there just moments earlier, could she have been saved?

Reid shook his head to clear these thoughts from his mind. It was useless to dwell on it now. He should be thinking of all the good memories he had of her. Suddenly a moment sprang to mind. He'd been showing the girls a trick. A chemistry trick to be exact. When the cap sprung off the desk it had hit Emily square on her forehead. He remembered thinking that she'd be angry, but instead she'd smiled and asked if he could show her.

It was a good memory, but Reid couldn't bring himself to smile. Not yet. It was too soon. He wasn't ready. But, then again, would he ever have been ready? He didn't think so, because when is someone actually ready to lose a friend so close they're practically family?

Reid sighed. _Family, _that was what it all boiled down to. They, the team, were family. He remembered saying, "But we're her family, we can help," and he wondered exactly how much help they had been. He recalled how he hadn't trusted her from the get-go, how he'd doubted and judged her made him really think about all she meant to him _now. _It made him think of how much time he'd wasted. Five years. That was how long he'd known her, and that was how long it took him to truly appreciate her. Now, five years barely seemed like any time at all. Somehow the time you have left with someone is never quite enough.

That much was certainly true.

The remaining hours passed by without incident. Doyle was still on the loose, but with Emily dead he had no reason to pursue the BAU anymore. Everyone went home, plagued by their individual miseries and guilt to some extent.

Then it was time for the funeral. It was small and short. He and Morgan were in front as they carried her casket. Morgan was stoic, he didn't say anything for the most part, but his eyes spoke volumes. He felt guilty, that much Reid could tell, but so did they all.

He managed through the funeral without crying. It was hard though, and he wanted badly to just scream. To scream at the heavens. He wanted to ask why? Why did it have to be her? Why now? Of course, he'd done that all the night before. Unsurprisingly, there had been no answer. No explanations given.

Emily's mother was nowhere to be found. She was in Russia at the moment. Reid hadn't been the one to talk to her, Hotch had, but from what he'd been told the ambassador hadn't taken it well. That wasn't surprising though, but still, being unable to attend her only daughter's funeral? It seemed almost wrong in Reid's mind.

Then it was his turn to place his rose on the casket. He walked forward, proud that he didn't break down, and placed the flower gently on the smooth black surface. He wondered if Emily was looking down at them now. If she was, would she wonder where her mother was? Probably not. They'd never been close, and this was no exception. Thinking about it, Reid supposed that Emily had been closer to the team than anyone else.

He wanted to say something, anything really, but his time was up. He took his place next to JJ and stood in silence as the priest spoke a few final words. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the casket. He still couldn't believe the lively woman he'd known was lifeless inside it. It was inconceivable to think she was even dead.

As his heart grew heavy with emotion, he wondered how life could be so cruel.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**Don't forget to REVIEW!**_

_**PS: The line that I have Reid suddenly remember, the one about being Prentiss's family, is one of my favorites!**_

_**Huh, he "remembered" a lot of stuff in this chappie... I just realized how much I overused that... Oh, well!**_


	3. Garcia

_**A/N: I hope there are still people interested in reading this! 'Cause there are gonna be a LOT more chapters still!**_

_**The beginning quote for this chapter is continued at the end, by the way. Listen to the song it's from, "Sissy's Song" by Alan Jackson, while you read. It's beautiful. Oh, and I realize Emily wasn't a wife or mother, but I loved that part of the song too much not to use it. Hey, the rest fits.**_

_**Not sure how well I did this chapter, but I HAD to write it. It was begging me to be set free ;)**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CM. Um... Am I missing anything? Oh, and I don't own "Sissy's Song".**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"_Why did she have to go_

_So young I just don't know why_

_Things happen half the time_

_Without reason, without rhyme_

_Lovely, sweet young woman_

_Daughter, wife and mother_

_Makes no sense to me_

_I just have to believe..."_

_~"Sissy's Song" by Alan Jackson_

Penelope Garcia was used to a life in front of computer screens. She commanded them with an ease that any hacker would envy. She rarely ventured outside her dark office, because when she did, bad things seemed to happen.

Like the time she got shot.

And when she went to Alaska and man died in her arms.

She figured if she stayed with her babies, her computers, nothing bad could touch her. She was good, and what she helped uncover was bad. She had never dreamed that the things she could dig up about someone could destroy a part of her life so utterly.

But it did.

She had helped to dig up history on Ian Doyle. The man, former-IRA-turned-terrorist, was the epitome of bad. So Garcia stayed indoors, with her computers, and dug up his past. She'd thought it wouldn't touch her. After all, what could this man that she had never even met do to her?

A lot. That's what.

When the team had discovered that Emily's past was tangled with Doyle's, Garcia's careful shield had started to crumble. The badness of the situation, of Doyle, had started to affect her, her life, and most importantly, her family.

Her family. The very shield she hid behind, yet also the thing that she actually wanted _to_ shield from the world. She remembered telling JJ one day, when she was still with the team, how every time they went away, all she could do was hope and pray they would come back to her in one piece. It killed her to know she couldn't protect them, and when one of them came back injured, she blamed herself. She always thought that she could've done _something _to prevent it. Maybe dig up incriminating evidence.

This time though, Garcia knew she wasn't alone in thinking they could've prevented it. They all blamed themselves. Garcia knew she shouldn't, but she did. She _did _blame herself. Maybe if she could've talked to Emily, even just once, she could've gotten her to spill her dirty little secret. Maybe she could've stopped her. Stopped her from trying to take on Doyle alone.

Alone.

It's how Garcia felt as she sat in the hospital chair, waiting as the surgeons tried to save Emily's life. And it must've been how Emily felt as Doyle held her captive. Garcia tried to banish this line of thinking, but it didn't work. She couldn't help but imagine what Emily must have gone through. After all, the state she was in when Morgan found her certainly said something about the way things had been going.

_She must've been so scared, _Garcia thought as she and the team continued to wait. _What did she go through? What did he do to her? _That thought only made her vivid imagination recreate the scene that Morgan had busted into.

Morgan.

Garcia looked to her right. She saw him sitting next to her, though she didn't know when he'd gotten there. He held her hand tightly, but his gaze remained fixed on some distant object.

God, what he must've seen. Garcia could only imagine, and she did. The poor man must have been torturing himself with the memories at that very moment. Garcia knew she was, though she hadn't seen Emily since...

All of a sudden she really had to concentrate to remember. When had she seen her friend last? She had glimpsed her at the briefing, but that didn't _really _count, now did it? She tried hard to remember the last time they had really been friends.

Then she remembered their last _real _conversation.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_ Garcia notices the weird look on Emily's face, and she watches as her friend backs away and walks toward the lady's room. She really can't help but follow._

_ As Garcia opens the door she takes in the fact that Emily is on the phone. Why would she need to make a phone call in the bathroom? Garcia wonders as she walks in._

_ "Are you okay?" Garcia asks, genuinely concerned._

_ "Oh, um," Emily turns off her phone and puts it away. "Yeah, I'm good." She gives Garcia a quick, unconvincing smile._

_ Garcia moves closer, "I'm not a profiler, but you-"_

_ "Don't start," Emily interrupts, shaking her head. There's an almost annoyed look on her face. Then she realizes how she must sound as she takes in the look on Garcia's face. "I'm sorry," she apologizes._

_ "I-I'm gonna be alright," Emily assures her. _

_ Garcia isn't entirely convinced, but she nods her head anyway, saying, "Okay."_

_ "I'm just really worried about you," Garcia says. "The flu is going around..." Even as she says it, another theory worms its way into her mind. "Are you pregs?" Garcia asks, almost hoping she'll say yes, because she could deal with that._

_ Emily laughs once, a familiar expression settling on her face. "No," she says, shaking her head, and she even smiles a little. "No, I'm just... I'm... not sleeping," she admits, and she sounds sincere to Garcia._

_ She then tells Garcia all about the recurring nightmare she's been having. Garcia listens as her friend confides in her, and she can't help but think that the little girl she talks about is herself. It sounds like some sort of crisis to her, but since Garcia wasn't a psychologist or anything she doesn't say anything. She only listens, but still she has the nagging feeling that Emily is only telling her half of the truth..._

_ "Somehow, you always make me smile," Emily says a while later. "And I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."_

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Garcia hadn't realized it then, but now she knew.

Emily had been saying goodbye.

The realization hit Garcia like a ton of bricks. Emily hadn't intended on surviving. She had gone out there, intentionally risking her life, and hadn't planned on coming back to them. She hadn't planned on coming back _to her family. _

Even though Garcia had begged her to stay alive, Emily had still gone to Doyle with the intention of dying.

That's when the second memory hits her...

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_ Garcia punches the numbers in wildly, hoping and praying Emily will pick up. This was her only hope. There was no other way of reaching her. She had already tried everything else._

_ The phone rings multiple times, the tension rising with each one._

_ Then, the call goes to voicemail. She's devastated when Emily doesn't pick up, but she leaves a message at the tone anyway._

_ "Hey, it's me," Garcia begins. "Hotch asked me to try all your numbers, and I have this as an old listing and you probably don't even use it anymore, but if it is you and you're out there... Come home."_

_ "Please," she continues, "God, Emily, what did you think? That we would just let you walk out of our lives?" Garcia is angry now, and the anger, the hurt fuels her as she goes on, "I am so furious at you right now!"_

_ Then Garcia takes a breath, calms down a little. "But then I think of how scared you must be. Hiding in some dark place all alone, but you're not alone, okay? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name, so if you can see us.. come home."_

_ Garcia is nearly crying now as she speaks, "But if you can't... then you stay alive. Because we're coming." _

_ She hangs up the phone then, consumed by the tears. _

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

Garcia is suddenly torn from her memories when JJ walks in. Everyone's eyes are instantly glued to her. Trained on her every twitch.

The tech analyst looks her friend over. JJ's eyes are pink and watery, and it's a dead giveaway. Garcia refuses to believe what she knows she will hear in only seconds.

"No," Garcia begged uselessly. Her eyes filled with tears, and her grip on Morgan's hand became tighter.

"She never made it off the table," JJ said, trying to keep her own emotions in check.

Then Garcia cried openly. She didn't care about keeping her composure. Her friend, one of her _closest _friends, practically a sister, had just _died._

She couldn't believe it. It was all too unreal, even as the very real grief crashed down on her. It was overwhelming and all-consuming. The need to cry was so strong, Garcia thought she might never stop.

She couldn't believe Emily was gone. Just like that. Snuffed out like a candle flame. She'd seen her just a day before, and had spoken to her. It was just too much to imagine never seeing her again. She didn't know if she could live her life without seeing her loved one ever again.

It would be horrible, coming to work day after day, and knowing that it was the last place she ever saw Emily alive. With the constant reminder, Garcia didn't know if she would ever move on. And frankly, right then she didn't want to.

She wanted to remember Emily every day. She couldn't just let her be forgotten. And she sure as hell couldn't let her be as easily replaced as other agents were all the time. Garcia knew that Emily's place could never truly be filled, especially with her murderer still on the loose.

Doyle. The cause of the grief she and her family were sentenced to suffer through. He was the one responsible for this, and Garcia swore then and there, tears streaming down her cheeks, that he would pay. Emily's murder would not go unavenged.

Emily's murder. God, it all sounded so unreal, so silly. How could someone so important to her be gone, just like that? Yet the details, the ones Morgan had shared, were so gruesome, so vivid that it was all absolutely, irrevocably _real._

It was all so senseless. There was no reason Emily should have died. So young, so loved by the people around her. It was impossible to imagine a life without her. Garcia had always thought one day, after everyone had retired, she, Emily, and Jayje would all get together and remember the good times. They would bond all over again, as they shared story about their kids, and later, their grandkids. She could have been a mother, a wife, but now she would never get the chance.

As Emily said, Garcia only saw beauty in a world fraught with just the opposite.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

The funeral was filled with emotion. Garcia couldn't stop herself from tearing up every time Emily was mentioned. And that was a lot, obviously.

Reid and Morgan carried the casket, along with Hotch and Rossi. In turn, each member of the BAU placed his or her rose on her casket. Garcia went right after Seaver.

As she carefully placed the rose on the shiny, black surface, Garcia couldn't help but think that when it was lowered into the ground, a piece of her would go with it.

As she took her place next to her friends, Garcia hoped that wherever she was now, Emily would be okay. Even if the team was broken now, they would still have the memories of completeness. The memories of their times together, the jokes they made, and the smiles they shared. Garcia thought that those would be the things she would always remember about Emily. Though nothing could replace her. _Ever._

It wouldn't be the same without her, but Garcia prayed she was in a better place now. She hoped Emily was at peace. It was better for her, wherever she was. It was better not to have to be hunted down by Doyle every day of her life. Now she wouldn't have to worry about the team, her little family

And even though Emily was dead, Garcia would never stop thinking about how her future could have turned out. How things could have gone if the doctors had saved her. And even though Emily was in heaven, Garcia didn't think she would ever stop worrying about her. She was pretty sure time would never fully heal these wounds.

"_She flew up to Heaven on the wings of angels_

_By the clouds and stars and passed where no one sees_

_And she walks with Jesus and her loved ones waiting_

_And I know she's smiling, saying_

_Don't worry 'bout me"_

_~"Sissy's Song" by Alan Jackson_

**_OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO_**

**_What did ya think? It's really important for me to know! Please review!_**

**_By the way, "Sissy's Song" is a truly beautiful, and tear-jerking kind of song. Listen to it._**

**_Fav moments and lines and all that jazz are awesome for me to know if you have any. It tells me what I'm doing right._**

**_Oh, and HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!_**


	4. Seaver

_**A/N: Hey, everybody... I'm really sorry that I took a random hiatus for a while... But hey! You CM readers are the lucky ones! I haven't updated some of my Psych stories since, like, December.**_

_**Well, anyways, this chapter is short, but that's because I found Seaver, being the underdeveloped character she is, very difficult to write. I'm happy with this chapter, though, and I hope you guys are happy with it, too.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own CM, but the people who do finally seem to have finally put on their thinking caps!**

**ENJOY!**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

**Seaver**

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

"_We must embrace pain and use it as fuel for our journey."_

_~ Kenji Miyazawa_

Ashley Seaver didn't know grief. She wasn't familiar with it, not like the families of the women her father murdered. Frankly, she wasn't _ready _to know grief. She knew, at this point, she wouldn't accept it.

So, when the former media liaison for the BAU, Jennifer Jareau, walked into the visitor's lounge that night, she had already begun denying the truth.

The blonde woman before them paused, and while it was a dead giveaway to some, it wasn't to Ashley. Not just yet.

"She never made it off the table," JJ announced.

Ashley froze, an unknown emotion coming over her, and mentally detached herself from the outside world, her grieving team. Surely, she thought, this isn't right. Emily Prentiss was _dead_? It was an utterly alien concept for her, and she just couldn't accept it.

The young cadet put her head in her hands as the foreign emotion continued to wash over her as waves would crash on a beach. A moment of understanding would dawn for a second, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone again. Lost amidst a sea of denials.

It wasn't true, she told herself; because, really, how could her mentor have died? Ashley, along with the rest of the team, had been told that Prentiss had been conscious when Morgan found her. Responsive, even, to his voice. That had to have been a positive sign, right?

After that, she didn't know much. The ambulance had arrived before the swarm of black SUVs. They hadn't seen any doctors, save for one woman, a surgeon, who reported that nothing could be said about Emily's condition at that point. Though she _had _said they weren't out of the woods just yet.

Which was obvious now, of course. After all, Prentiss was dead, yes? Bled out on the operating table. Lost too much blood to measure. Gave up at the home stretch.

Not like it had been her choice, though. Ashley was sure that, if Prentiss could've chosen to come back to them, to survive, she would've. Her stubbornness would have kept her with them. After everything she'd been through, she wouldn't have just given up; not it she could've helped it.

Ashley sighed; Prentiss hadn't had a choice. Her... death... was against her will.

Then again, confronting Doyle alone had been a suicide mission. Prentiss must have known that when she ran. So, all in all, Prentiss had known what the consequences would be. She had known all along that she would die.

_But we didn't, _Ashley thought. _We thought there was still a chance to save her. To rescue her. She didn't have to die._

That unfamiliar, overwhelming emotion swept through her again, but this time, Ashley put a name to it.

Grief.

She didn't think that, after such a short time with the woman, she would grieve for her quite so much. She had no right. After all, what was a few months compared to five years?

But still, no matter if it's five weeks or five years, Ashley still felt the pain of loss. It reverberated through her body, zinging through her mind, making sure that all her thoughts were laced with sadness.

Who would guide her now? Who would she look to for instruction? Who could fill the hole her mentor had left?

Ashley didn't know if anybody could fill that void. It wasn't that the others weren't as amazing an agent as Prentiss had been, but they just couldn't compete with the impression the whole bizarre situation had left. How could any of them, Morgan, Hotch, Rossi, even Reid, compare to the memory Emily had left?

She'd gone to incredible lengths to keep her team, her family, safe. She'd been prepared to pay the ultimate price for their safety. She never even thought to clue them in to what was happening, but instead wanted to keep them blind to the situation. To save their _lives._

No matter how utterly _stupid _her decision had been, Ashley knew that the imprint left by her just wouldn't be forgotten. She would forever remember the brave, smart, strong woman that had given her life to save her friends.

Grief clouded her vision once again. Thinking about Prentiss, about what she did for them, for _Ashley, _brought the prickling sensation of tears to her eyes. Which was silly, because after this whole experience, the one thing she should have taken from it was that she had never really known Emily Prentiss at all.

Yet despair and pain still found a home in her heavy heart. She may not have known Prentiss for long, but Ashley felt like everything she did and said was genuine. Her actions, not her past, was the _real _Emily Prentiss. And Ashley knew very well what she did for the team, and even for the innocent strangers that team helped every day.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

So, when the funeral came around, Ashley had all those same thoughts and feelings racing through her mind. Thoughts of Emily blocked the words of the priest the entire time. And Ashley didn't really mind that.

She thought about Emily's secret past, and how it had consumed her whole.

She thought about her as a mentor, and how she had come to admire her.

She thought of the pain of losing her, and how she didn't quite know what to feel about _feeling _grief.

She thought about the present, and how Emily would want her to be strong and unprejudiced for the team.

She thought about how, no matter what, she would always admire Emily Prentiss.

As Ashley laid the rose on the onyx surface of the casket, she knew that Prentiss wouldn't want Ashley's whole life to come to a stall because of her death. She would want her to take this experience, this grief, this pain, and use it to become stronger. To keep moving forward in her journey. She would want her to take the knowledge that she had given her in the short time they'd known each other, and use it to help the victims, survivors, and all the people they met in the course of their work. Including the rest of the team.

Though Emily hadn't been her mentor for long, Ashley had strived to be like her, and no matter what she had done, Ashley still admired her courage. And Ashley knew, as sure as she knew herself, that she would make Emily proud one day.

_**OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO**_

_**Thanks so much for reading, and, before you go, please review!**_

_**The next chapter will most likely be longer, because it's... *drumroll please!*... DAVID ROSSI!**_

_**PS: I only wrote Seaver because she was there, and she did have a fairly strong connection to Prentiss, what with her being Seaver's mentor and all.**_


End file.
